


Normal

by IMakeMyselfLol



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series), Fantasy High
Genre: Ayda's POV, Chapter 2 post spring break, F/F, First Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25019455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMakeMyselfLol/pseuds/IMakeMyselfLol
Summary: It is difficult to find peers on a dirty pirate island, and even more so when you are hard to be around - which the few people Ayda has ‘been around’, excepting Garthy of course,  all seem to agree independently that she is.Which is why it is so remarkable and exciting to her that, in spite of this, Adaine Abernant, the elven oracle and great wizard of this age, has decided, through a mutually extended verbal contract, to be her friend. Ayda finds herself quite suddenly surrounded by more people than she ever thought possible, by their choosing. They called for her to come in their hour of need to teleport and help save Adaine. This, she is sure, must hold some significance. It is Fig, eyes boring into hers, that asks for her assistance. Ayda notes how bright they seem before she quickly looks away.
Relationships: Ayda Aguefort/Figueroth Faeth
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Having watched the 4 hour compilation of all the Ayda scenes three times now I am even more SOFT for her and Fig's relationship. Best NPC (after the lunch lad himself of course ;) )

Ayda Aguefort is, unabashedly, an incredibly focused person. Every iteration of her has been - this fact revealing itself to her through long hours spent poring over notes left by her past three selves in the depths of the Compass Points Library- both through the act of the reading and the writing of them. She has spent hundreds of hours browsing tome after tome, absorbing as much knowledge as she can about the rules of magic and divination, unlocking the rules and codes that govern its use. Living on a pirate island, Ayda has always found herself much more comfortable surrounded by her books than by people. Her copious notes seem to imply that this is a sort of universal truth, and her own forays into the deadly arena that is interpersonal connections have been… disheartening. It is difficult to find peers on a dirty pirate island, and even more so when you are hard to be around - which the few people Ayda has ‘been around’, excepting Garthy of course, all seem to agree independently that she is.

Which is why it is so remarkable and exciting to her that, in spite of this, Adaine Abernant, the elven oracle and great wizard of this age, has decided, through a mutually extended verbal contract, to be her friend. Ayda finds herself quite suddenly surrounded by more people than she ever thought possible, by their choosing. They called for her to come in their hour of need to teleport and help save Adaine. This, she is sure, must hold some significance. It is Fig, eyes boring into hers, that asks for her assistance. Ayda notes how bright they seem before she quickly looks away. 

The bold children are both a source of great confusion, and great delight. It is fascinating to be around them and Ayda finds herself learning a great deal about what people mean in relation to what they have actually said. They do not hesitate to explain the inferences and implications that lay behind their social interactions, facial expressions, and general way of being. It is a first, Ayda thinks, for any of her forms. 

Sitting in the HangVan as Gorgug reveals his failings to her and sending a message to Zelda, Ayda receives her reply and knows that, seeing as they are on a time limit with the mission to save Adaine, it is probably going to be a bad time to repeat it. However, there is also probably not going to be a good time to express it either. Logically then, Ayda decides, she is better to just go ahead. 

“This is a bad time to bring this up,” Ayda begins, “but I don’t know when times are good to bring things up.”   
Fig smiles reassuringly up at her from her seat across the van. Her teeth are pointed and shiny in a way that should not be considered soothing, and yet to see them makes something in Ayda’s chest feel soothed.   
“Ayda, be you. We love—however you wanna be, we love you.” Fig’s smile never wavers as she says this, and it takes all of Ayda’s considerable focus to check the flames of her hair and make sure they don’t plume out of control at this response. Not once, anywhere in all of her notes, did she ever write about being loved. Is it normal that her heart is beating so hard against her sternum that she thinks maybe the entire party can hear it? What is the normal reaction to have? 

“Thank you. I love you, too. Is that normal?” Her stomach feels like it did the first time she had managed to take flight, waiting for Fig to tell her that it is weird and bad to say that, to feel it. 

“Sure!” Fig says brightly. There is great relief in hearing this. Fig does not think it is weird. That is very good.

“Okay.” Ayda nods.

Fig, Ayda is learning, doesn’t like to leave room for misinterpretation - it is one of the many qualities about Fig that she finds intriguing. “Should be. If it isn’t, it should be.” Fig adds before quieting down to allow Ayda to relay Zelda’s message. Ayda is grateful for this trait once again as Fig, aided by Kristin, explains the slight that Zelda had given Gorgug by including her social whereabouts in her limited word count. Social interactions remain treacherous and layered in a way that Ayda does not think she will ever truly manage to unravel. It is, as far as Ayda can tell, nothing like the process of figuring out new magics, which has always been a great strength of hers - something that this party seems to appreciate very much. It is Fig who once again calls upon her to aid their quest with her spellcraft by researching the Plane Shift spell.

Ayda considers the request for but a moment before agreeing to do it. Priority number one though still being the retrieval of Adaine. “I would have to return to the Compass Points in Leviathan. Perhaps after we rescue my friend, Adaine. My best friend,” She pauses, looking around at them all before continuing “Is that strange? Have I made myself vulnerable?” 

“That’s awesome. But she’s also kinda my best friend.” Fig asserts as the rest of the party reassures her that vulnerability is good. 

Ayda mulls this thought over. If Adaine is her best friend, and also Fig’s best friend…“By the transitive property, are we also best friends?” She wonders if any of her past selves ever had a best friend, let alone the possibility of two.

Without missing a beat Fig grins wider “Yeah. Yeah, you know what, that’s a nice way to take it.” 

Ayda feels the beginnings of fiery tears welling up in her eyes. Two best friends.  
“Fantastic. I grow richer by the day. I’m emotional.” Thick rivulets of fire spill over and down her cheeks and she cannot contain them, the well of emotion that sentiment has opened up within her vast and potentially all consuming and definitely not something she wanted everyone to watch her grapple with. “I’m emotional. I’m going to fly away.” So she does, careening into the too perfect air above the lands of the Lomenelda.

Soaring through the night sky, tears still burning, Ayda thinks about how incredible her life has become since Garthy gave a letter to a group of adventurers that led them to her library. It is novel, to know people that she cares about reciprocate that care and affection. Speaking to Adaine about wizardly knowledge, holding Boggy, being different but the same in that, Ayda feels a kinship unlike any she has ever had before - not many young female magical academics on Leviathan. Pretty much just the one. That friendship is warm, and comforting, and precious like a good book.   
Her friendship with Fig is. Different. Figueroth Faeth, loud and brash and charming and funny, is never offended or weirded out by Ayda’s frequent questions and concerns around subtext. Fig is effortlessly cool, from her musical talent, to her clothing, to her magic in a way that makes Ayda want to screech. It is incredible. She, Ayda thinks, is incredible. It is maybe not so normal to also think that Fig is very beautiful. Which Ayda does. Often. Pretty much every time she has seen her. Also when she is not seeing her she still thinks this. It burns hot in her stomach every time Fig looks at her, and the urge to reach out and touch is a constant low level hum in the back of her mind. She wonders if Fig also experiences this...wanting when she thinks about her, or if she thinks about her at all. 

\---  
Later, after Adaine is safe again and Aelwyn too, the battle in the tower over finally, Ayda lets herself examine the tumultuous knot of emotions that the day had wrought. It is not dissimilar to poking a bruise, lingering on the emotional impact of seeing Not-Arthur-Aguefort-but-Fig-in-disguise and being attacked by them, and how difficult that had been. Having a shitty dad is still painful, no matter how far removed from it Ayda is. At the same time, her body feels alight still with the memory of hugging Fig close to fly them into the tower itself, and watching her in combat had made Ayda want to vibrate out of her skin. After depositing Aelwyn with Adaine for some much needed sleep, Ayda finds herself irresistibly drawn back over to Fig. 

Fig is tired, Ayda thinks, because she is tired and battles are hard and Fig fought very bravely, and it is normal to tell your friends that they did a good job so she tells her as much. Fig does not seem to agree, which is unacceptable to Ayda. Does Fig not know how great she is?   
“You are extremely loud and funny and charming and you talk loudly  
and that’s so exciting.” Ayda blurts out, watching as a dusting of pink (incredible) appears across Fig’s cheeks as she laughs in surprise.

“Thank you so much! I mean, you’re really direct and analytical, and you kind of deconstruct things before my eyes, and make me see things in a different way, and I really like that. A lot of things I take for granted, you really think through.” Fig says, effusive in her statement, and it is maybe the nicest anyone has ever been to Ayda. She can’t help but let the tears slip out as Fig speaks. 

“Also you cry fire, which is awesome. And—check it out.” Fig’s hand, delicate even still with the callouses from shredding her bass, reaches up to touch her cheek and Ayda holds her breath, waiting for a wince of pain that never comes as Fig wipes away her tears. Ayda’s fire cannot burn her. This is a revelation. 

The invitation to have a slumber party is another first and Ayda is bowled over by it, by the proximity and intimacy of laying so close in the warm darkness certainly, but also just by Fig wanting her here, saying what she means even if it is with someone else’s face, and apologising for using her usually delightful trick in a way that, though unintentionally, hurt Ayda. Ayda is exhausted and yet it takes a long time to fall asleep, because all she wants to do is look at Fig and wonder if Fig would like to try kissing her on the mouth. 

\--  
Time passes, and Ayda slowly realises that being away from her best friends, having and then not having them around is extremely bad and weird now. All she does while at Compass Points is think about them, study spells she thinks they might like, obsess over whether Fig might think the latest outfit that feels right to her looks good, whether her hair is as soft as it looks, and mostly how she can get back to them all but especially to Fig. The not knowing whether these wild and growing vines of feelings for and about Fig are reciprocated becomes almost unbearable. It takes days of painful drafting and redrafting but Ayda finally has a contract that she thinks will protect her from any judgment if she can tell Fig that she has, for every waking moment since they met, and some of the sleeping ones too if she is being completely forthright, been thinking about what it might be like if Fig were to just kiss her.   
She also comes to the decision that shrinking the library so it can go with her and therefore she can go with them is the best plan of action. It will, however, take time, and she would rather be spending that with her friends right now; and so she finds herself with an invitation to a party in Arborly. Fig looks at her and Ayda just RSVPs yes. Only then does she remember that she is not a fan of parties.

Parties are terrifying. They are loud and confusing, and people talk over one another and it is almost impossible to know what is important to listen to and what is not and Ayda finds herself quickly overwhelmed. She looks around for Fig as the rest of their (a thrilling thought) friends begin some strange crab based ritual that Ayda cannot understand, finding her outside, deep in thought as she stares out at the thick bramble wall at the edge of town. Ayda does her best not to disturb her, but Fig soon notices her presence and smiles back at her. Ayda cannot look away.

Fig’s quiet explanation about her use of other people’s faces as a nonsense thing that only sometimes makes her feel good astonishes Ayda. “Yeah, that’s interesting. I..can’t understand that, because if I was you I wouldn’t want to be anyone else because you’re very exceptional.” Fig stares at her, and Ayda holds her gaze, the would-be-silence filled by their friends chanting from inside. 

Fig breaks the silence after a little while, staring back out at the wall. “Well, thank you. I wish I could take that compliment, but truthfully I think you probably think I’m somewhat different than I am.” Ayda steps closer, one hand just barely grazing Fig’s elbow but even that little point of contact feels monumentally important to convince Fig that what she is about to say is as genuine a thing as has ever been said.

“Being mistaken about the nature of something and discovering its true nature is my favorite thing in the world to do. Are you engaging in this chorus of nonsense because the gemstone containing your father went missing?” Ayda says softly, mind whirling over how she might take the sloping defeat out of Fig’s posture. As Fig laments a bad day, it comes to her. She is not always sure that she is a comforting presence, but there is something she can do to take Fig’s mind off of this.

“Would you like to take a closer look at that wall?”  
Ayda feels as though, if she weren’t invisible, there would be no way she could sit here in the branches of a tree with Fig and not just set the entire place alight if Fig so much as looked at her too closely. The only thing that is holding her together right now is concentrating on maintaining this invisibility because Fig’s voice is ringing in her ears, telling her that she thinks Ayda is perfect the way she is and now her heart is going to explode because they’re standing at the base of an 80 foot tree and Fig is looking at her and Ayda has to know. She has to. Which is why she is brandishing a contract at the object of her affections and hoping that she doesn’t think it's weird.

“The contract effectively states that I have information that might be actionable  
and of interest to you, and I will give it to you on the condition that you do not make any inferences based on that information.” Ayda explains, knowing that Fig would never willingly hurt her feelings but terrified that she might do it accidentally. “So, once you have that information, you don’t make any assumptions based on it, you don’t—basically, you’re not allowed to think anything judgmental or critical once you get that information.” 

And then Fig is signing it and Ayda, for a second, feels her heart fully stop.

“Very well. Some actionable information.” Ayda can feel the contract burning in her palm as she begins. “At any waking moment, outside of combat, that you and I have been together, if you had tried to …” She stutters just briefly, the words conjuring images that she has not been able to close her eyes without seeing for weeks now appear in her mind. This is it. Focus. “kiss me on the mouth, it would have been received favorably.” 

Fig scrawls on a piece of parchment and hands it over, and as she reads it Ayda tries to clarify that it is not a legally binding document when Fig steps into her space, so close that she can feel her breath, and takes Ayda’s chin in her hands.   
“Just so you know, I’ve never done this as myself before.” Before she has a chance to react to those words, Fig is kissing her. 

Ayda Aguefort is an incredibly focused person. As soon as Fig’s lips touch hers she instantly drops concentration, becoming fully visible as the fire of her hair swells enormous and bright because Fig is kissing her and her lips are the softest thing Ayda has ever touched and she kisses, at least Ayda thinks, like she sings: with everything she is. Ayda marvels at the realisation that kissing Fig is better than any spell she has ever come across, and that she would like to keep doing it for the rest of time. It is euphoric, and then Fig is gone into the darkness and the trees and Ayda is blinking in her wake. If this is what their first kiss is like, she thinks, what would it be like when they had a chance to learn each other, what they liked and disliked? Ayda might genuinely explode.

“Is it normal for people to run away after that?” She calls out into the dark, watching Fig slink out from behind a tree looking sheepish and disheveled and so so hot.

Fig smiles softly, apologetic. “I’m really sorry I’m just so used to being other people and this is absolutely terrifying.” Ayda looks at her, at her mussed up hair, and her rose tinted cheeks, and the delightful glistening of her lips. “Can I get another shot at that?” She asks, watching how Fig’s eyes darken at the question. “It was perfect, I think I could do better.” 

Fig steps back into her space, eyes smouldering, and Ayda thinks she could melt if Fig looked at her like that for much longer. “Yeah,” Fig breathes, her voice low enough to make Ayda’s entire body shiver with the zing of anticipation. “Why don’t you show me?” and she leans in yet again. Ayda is burning for her as their lips meet, completely enraptured when Fig’s hands wrap around her waist pulling her closer until they are chest to chest and she can feel the fabric of Fig’s skirt laying against her legs. Ayda is not sure if Fig can feel her body shaking, adrenaline and dopamine flooding through her veins as they kiss and kiss and kiss and then Fig is opening her mouth and so Ayda takes her cue on this because Fig is a rockstar - whatever that means - and is extremely proficient at kissing. 

The first touch of Fig’s tongue against her own is electrifying. Fig’s mouth is sweet and tangy, the taste of her clove cigarettes lingering in the heat of her incredible, beautiful face and Ayda would like to maybe drown there in it. She is not sure if it is normal to want that, or if it is normal to put her own hands into the lush softness of Fig’s hair but doesn’t want to stop kissing to ask. She realises quite suddenly that she should probably take a breath at some point or risk unconsciousness from lack of air. From the kissing. The kissing Fig. Would that be a cool thing, maybe? But Fig is slowing the pace, pulling just a few inches away, her hands still wrapped around Ayda’s waist. Sound returns slowly to her ears as she blinks and Ayda can hear the raucous shrieks of the party still raging far off in the night. 

Fig’s hands are an anchor to the moment, holding her gently to the earth. It is incredible to feel held and not constricted but buoyed by the holding. Fig grins, a toothy little half smile that sets Ayda’s heart racing again. “You know…” she says conspiratorially “I started this whole party thing just so you would stick around.” That is a lot to process. Fig wanted her to stay, and constructed a scenario by which she would stay because she, Fig, wanted to be close to her. And now is telling her this, making herself vulnerable which is something that is very difficult for Fig and so is extremely cool and nice. Fiery tears drop unbidden down her cheeks.

“Sorry, that’s So nice.” Ayda is filled with the urge to reciprocate, wiping away her tears. “ I won’t lie—let me divulge information about myself. Parties frighten and terrify me, and the only reason I stuck around was because you were there.” It feels wonderful to express all of the feelings that have been whirling about in her head since they met, and to know that Fig thinks it should give her confidence, ergo that she had performed well enough to take pride in the act, is fantastic. This night is unequivocally the best she has had.  
“I can’t—again, I can’t speak to all the Aydas that have come before me, but in this version of my life, this is the greatest moment of it.”

Fig tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear (delightful) and laughs quietly. “Alright well, I’m going for best of all the Ayda’s.” Hearing her say this makes Ayda want to pull her in for another kiss, but maybe only Fig is supposed to start it? Establishing rules of engagement is important. 

“Is it normal—’cause you’ve initiated a kiss twice; would it be normal for me to start one off?”   
“Oh yeah.”

Ayda grabs her face and kisses her with as much fervour as she can, swallowing Fig’s gasp of surprise as they kiss again, laser focused on each point of connection between their bodies. It takes a while for her to realise they are pushed up against the trunk of that tree, and even longer to notice that the sky is brightening. It is difficult to think about anything else when Fig’s lips are against her own. The two break apart, flushed and kiss drunk, many minutes later. Logically, Ayda knows she has to leave - shrinking the library, mastering plane shift, two responsibilities that she must see to and yet. As Fig sways into her even as they part, all that seems to matter less. She very desperately, and only wants to stay.


	2. Chapter 2

After everything; breaking Fig out of Hell, surviving the Forest of the Nightmare King and the Celestial Gallery, breaking Mr. The Insatiable from the ruby, rekindling some sort of still-confusing-but-better relationship with Arthur Aguefort, and getting invited (thrilling) to be part of the Mordred Manor family - after Spring Break is over, Ayda Aguefort finds herself in the previously unthinkable position of having gotten everything she had always wanted, but never dreamed she would get. 

Whenever she had pictured her life, it had been a sort of abstraction, one containing Garthy and the Compass Points library, and her magic and notes, and little else. Mordred Manor bustled with life in the summer heat outside the refuge of Fig’s room - Kirsten and Tracker heckling Jawbone as they made dinner in the kitchen, the sound Riz, Gorgug, Ragh, and Fabian playing Bloodrush (a misnomer for a sport that involved only some rushing and almost no blood) on the lawn trickling in on the breeze through the open window, and somewhere above, in the tower, Adaine, Aelwyn, and Zayn were gluing patches to newly acquired jackets. Laying here, her fiery head cradled in the soft fabric of Fig’s skirt against her thighs, her paramour tracing absent minded shapes against Ayda’s cheek with one hand, the other scratching lyrics into her notebook, Ayda wondered how there could be versions of her that had lived without this, without love at all. 

“Babe? Everything ok down there? And by that I mean are you upset or overwhelmed, because you’re crying like, medium hard right now, and you haven’t said anything for a while - is it like, sensory overload? I read in one of those books Jawbone gave you that could happen - I could turn off the lights? Should I stop touching you? I’m sorry I didn’t even notice I was doing it really!” In an instant Fig’s concerned face, brow furrowed and sharp teeth worrying her lip leaned down over her, and Ayda choked back a sob.

“No, no. This is just. So nice. All of it - my life is richer and more full than I could have ever conceived it would be.” A grin, gentle as the hands that continue to wipe fiery tears from Ayda’s cheeks, spreads across Fig’s face.

“If I’m honest, mine is too. It’s pretty cool, having you here so much, and everyone else too of course, just being able to relax for once and enjoy it all is rad. Like, the fact that we can just,” and then Fig is kissing her, soft and sweet and surprisingly well aimed for being upside down “do that all the time? Pretty frickin’ sick.” (Ayda has learnt that Fig’s exclamation that something is ‘sick’ is not actually relating to any malady but a belief that something is particularly enjoyable or impressive.) 

“Yes, I too find the frequency with which we are able to kiss to be very sick. I find I am considering now how empty my life might have been, and by extension how empty my past lives have been. They were, at least the ones on which I retain notes, perfectly satisfactory lives but I cannot help but look at them now and wonder if they were ever as happy as I am in this moment in their entire lifespans. Is it normal to feel… not pity, but something, to be...sad for them?”

Fig’s palm falls still cupping Ayda’s cheek, and an unfamiliar expression settles on her face as she ushers Ayda from her lap, wriggling down the bed until they are lying face to face, the curtain of her hair (coconut and subtle notes of pineapple, intoxicating) loosed from its customary braid spreading out on the comforter between them. The expression lingers, and Ayda finds she cannot unravel its meaning. “Your face, you did something with it I can’t quite figure out.” 

Fig nestles closer, tangling her socked (almost unbearably cute) feet with Ayda’s claws.

“First, It’s totally normal, at least I think it is, to have sort of complicated feelings about your past, especially when you’re looking at it from such a different place than the one you were in before. I think being retroactively sad that past Ayda’s didn’t have this too is super normal because you deserve to have always had someone that you loved and that loved you in your life. You deserve to have love in every life in my opinion, I mean, if they were anything like you they would have been easy to love. And I’m not just saying that because you’re my succubus.” Ayda feels the tears well up again as Fig speaks, the fiery plume of her hair blossoming out towards her. Even now, weeks and months later, to be loved is extraordinarily tender and grand. To be loved by Fig feels transcendent, like the joy of it could echo through time to touch all the Ayda’s. Ayda wonders if it is normal to wish that it could be so. 

Fig continues, taking Ayda’s hands in hers and getting impossibly closer, sending shivers throughout her body “As for my face, I guess it's a lot of stuff at once because I love you, and you feeling upset makes me upset on your behalf because I don’t want anything to hurt you even though I know that’s not realistic? But I’m also happy, because I know that these feelings are because what we have now is really great, and I guess also just everytime I think you’ve said the sweetest thing you could possibly say you go and top it and I just love you a lot. It’s probably a pretty confusing expression for anyone to really unpack.” 

They are quiet for a minute as Ayda relaxes into the not-quite-embrace, wrapping her wings around Fig, creating a soft, dark haven for the two of them to inhabit. As she always did when encompassed by Ayda’s wings, Fig stroked gently down pin feathers, the familiar rose blush that brought to her cheeks utterly charming to Ayda. How fanciful that fate had sent the Bad Kids to Garthy, and then to her, just when she had begun to give up all hope of ever finding true friends on Leviathan. 

“I...sometimes...wish... that I could have used some strange branch of divinatory magic to predict you arriving into my life. It would have been a great comfort to me to know someone so exceptional would care for me while I was spending so much time creating the friendship section of the library alone.” Ayda paused for a beat. “Does acknowledging that out loud, on a social level make me look weird, or sad and awkward?”

Fig huffed a quiet laugh. 

“There you go again. You really are the sweetest person I know. It doesn’t make you any of those things, it makes you wonderfully, intensely, you. Pretty perfect from where I’m standing.” Fig’s dark eyes glittered beneath long eyelashes, and Ayda felt her heart thump against her sternum - utterly distracted. Sometimes being so close to Fig made it hard to parse the things she was saying, which was maybe bad? But Fig seemed to revel in the times that her beauty made Ayda lose concentration, particularly when it came to spellcraft. 

“Standing? Ah, you mean from your point of view yes, of course, I see that. Very cool. I am also standing where you are perfect. So, that’s positive. I would like to kiss you quite badly right now, would you also like to be kissing?” Fig is already leaning in as she nods, closing the scant distance between the two of them. Soft lips, strawberry flavoured chapstick, and then her tongue. 

Ayda is irrationally grateful for the decision to wear a cropped vest when Fig’s ever questing hands alight with bare skin at her waist and neck. Another perk of her paramour’s status as archdevil was the immunity to fire damage - half of Fig’s hand was immersed in flaming hair that licked at her skin as the kiss deepened.

Fig’s stature made her the perfect size to be concealed within the shell of Ayda’s wings while they were kissing, the perfect size to be held - when they embraced she slotted against Ayda’s chest exactly (incredible) - but lying down there was no difference, only sensation. The little rumbling hum of delight that passes from Fig’s chest to her own as they kiss and kiss and kiss and Ayda gathers Fig closer still, one hand just barely brushing the hem of her skirt where it lays against Fig’s thigh, the other under her chin in a mirror of their very first kiss. Every part of Fig is maybe, absolutely, the best thing Ayda has ever touched. Ayda feels the hoot building in her throat, holding it at bay a struggle as her paramour moves against her. As if she herself was the oracle and not Adaine, Fig pulls back beaming, lipstick smudged, her arms bracketing either side of Ayda’s head as Ayda caws and hoots for a few seconds and feels little kisses being peppered all over her face as she quiets, the faint hint of embarrassment for interrupting what had been a Very enjoyable experience. 

“Gods, look at you. If my Mom wasn’t home right now I swear I would…” Fig trailed off with a look that seared, so much so that Ayda felt an almost electrical energy pulse through her. She could picture with great accuracy exactly what Fig would do. Wait, was Fig saying something? 

“I am distracted. I am...many things, but distracted is most prominent. I did not hear a word of that.”

Fig winked down at her (distracting) and gestured parting her wings like a curtain, which Ayda did instinctively, her focus still very much on Fig as she settled back to sit astride her, the comforting weight very welcome but probably at cross purposes with keeping things on the rails.

“As much as I want to explore whatever it is you’re thinking about right now, because that face is very intriguing to me and if I keep looking at you I’m gonna to have to kiss you again and that will only lead to trouble, we gotta focus up, cool off before we make a show of ourselves at dinner.”

Ayda blinked, trying to focus, and sure enough she could hear now the familiar sounds of the boys cajoling Baxter in the front yard, and Jawbone’s exuberant greeting ringing through the hall as Sandra Lynn hung up her coat. 

“Of course, I would not want Sandra Lynn to abscond with your bedroom door, although I am a wizard and could simply transport us to Leviathan if you desired more privacy, but I will, as you say, hold that thought for later. Family dinner night is important too.” With one last smouldering look, Fig clambered off her and onto the floor, rummaging through her dresser and tugging a fresh shirt over her head.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Her excited voice is muffled by fabric and Ayda is so in love with her it feels like a physical weight in her chest, “I got you something the other day while we were shopping for Aelwyn’s jacket.” Ayda sits up as Fig pulls something from the drawer and hides it in her closed fist. “Ok close your eyes and put out your hand!”

“Why?” Ayda was already doing it, safe in the knowledge that Fig would not ask anything of her that would be uncomfortable or mean.

“So I can keep the suspense going, make it a real surprise when you open your eyes up again and the present is in your hand, it’s traditional I guess.” She felt the pleasant brush of Fig’s hand in hers, and then a delicate weight drop into her waiting palm. “Okay aaaannnnnd, open!”

Ayda opened her eyes to see an ear cuff, gold with orange tourmaline inlaid, daintily designed to look like a round of an orange with a wedge missing where it would attach to the ear. 

“So I saw it and I thought about how you’re kind of a pirate, culturally speaking, and you said one time that oranges are super important like symbolically as tokens of affection, and then how the first gift I ever gave you was my own cuff and it just seemed sort of perfect, and the coolest part is that they had two so I have one as well and we can match, and people will know we’re together, see?” Sure enough, Fig was already slipping the matching piece onto her own ear as Ayda stared at the gift. 

Fig had listened to her talk about the relevance of oranges in sea faring, once, ages ago, retained the information instead of brushing it aside, and had come across objects that had brought Ayda to her mind even though she had not been physically present (fascinating), and then purchased them as a symbol so people would know they were a couple. Fig had to know how her heart wanted to explode out of her chest just thinking about it. In an instant, between one blink and the next, Ayda is up and crowding Fig against her door, cradling the cuff between their bodies like a pearl.

“Figeuroth Faeth. This gift is, unfathomably precious to me, fourth only to you, the spell gifted to me by our mutual best friend and elven oracle Adaine, and the little magic key that connects the library to Mordred Manor. I will guard it as keenly as a dragon does its hoard, by the nine winds and seven stars, this is my vow.” Ayda crouches and extends the cuff to Fig to put on her as she speaks, and Fig adjusts the piece to her liking, tilting Ayda’s chin up to look at her as she winks. Warm refracted light dances across her cheek like glitter, and she is as radiant as she has ever been. 

“I’m glad you like it, it really suits you - your hair makes it like a little personal disco ball which I didn’t anticipate but am loving so big wins all round with this o-” Ayda has to kiss her, surging up and lifting Fig just slightly into the air, gratified in the extreme at the way her legs instantly wrap around Ayda’s waist, her perfect calloused hands cradling her face as they kiss, and Ayda can feel the way her hair is like a wildfire atop her head from the heady desire of it all.

“Guys! Dinner in 5!” 

Kristen’s voice, echoing up the stairs, pierces through the haze, and for a moment Ayda contemplates teleporting the two of them to the compass points and letting Sandra Lynn take the door; but only for a moment. Family dinner night is important. With one last lingering kiss she sets Fig down again and takes a step back, taking stock of the situation. 

“The gift was, perhaps, ill advised if the aim was to make me want you less.”

Fig, visibly rumpled and leaning against the wall for support, snorts a laugh. “Yeah I’m getting that now babe, we were halfway on the rails and then you pulled out the guns and I’m a sucker for it every time.” Fig grins at her, turning towards the vanity, still looking at Ayda in the mirror. “Damn your beefy arm charms, they’ll get us both into trouble someday soon.” 

Ayda can't help but laugh at that, loud and birdlike, before reaching out and beginning to rebraid Fig’s hair while Fig fixes her makeup, the casual intimacy of the moment, so routine now to them both yet still, a memory sealed in with love, and the scent of coconut and pineapple shampoo, and Fig’s gaze still coming to find hers in the reflection, that she will cherish. 

“Ok, that’s as good as we’re gonna get. Come on, the sooner we get down there the better - I cannot take another one of my Mom’s weird eyebrow motions, it's too scarring.” Fig shudders as she speaks, standing and making her way out the door as Ayda nods sagely, adjusting the buckles at the front of her cropped vest.

“I agree - I used my subtext spell the last time and the eyebrow motions are clearly insinuating many things which could be uncomfortable for everyone else to be considering at dinner.” With one last look at the ear cuff still sparkling in the mirror Ayda turns to follow, only for Fig to pop her head back around the door frame with a decidedly mischievous smirk.

“Plus, the sooner we go the sooner we can come back up.” Laughing, she takes Ayda’s hand and they stroll downstairs together, meeting Adaine and Aelwyn as they make their way, the chorus of nonsense striking up once more as they join the rest of the party around the dining table. 

As Ayda sits surrounded by her closest friends, all eating and laughing and talking together, she drinks the scene in. Perhaps, she thinks, if she is careful, she can capture the joy of it, the love, in her notes so perfectly that no Ayda will ever feel destined to loneliness again. That would be her greatest wish for the lives that come after; to love, and be loved fiercely in return - after all, she is, apparently, very easy to love.


End file.
